It was an unusually warm morning for the middle of September when a large boxed marked 'fragile' and 'this way up' was left on the porch of a man. The box was a four by four, probably around five feet high, and long, thin slits had been cut in all sides but the bottom. On the top an envelope was secured in a ziplock bag, stapled to keep it from flying away. On the top a name was scrawled in an elegant script, the inside letter matching fonts. 'Dear Sir, thank you for your purchase of your specially bread Maine Coon. Don't forget that he must be bred with every day, or will start to become destructive. Standing, he is around five feet, five inches, grey eyes and grey/black fur. He is thickly furred and will need to be brushed once every other day to maintain health and a comfortable life with you. Please contact us if he is not everything you imagined or if he does not fit seamlessly into your life. The name 'Alec' has been given to him and he responds to it. Thank you again, enjoy!'
The sedative had just started wearing as bright light flooded his senses. He rubbed his eyes with his hands, the palms seeming human, contrasting the fur on the opposite side. He looked up into the light, squinting into a face he vaguely recognized from a photo. "John?" he asked softly. He wore no clothes, fur hid everything fairly well with the long hair and he was curled up in pillows and blankets, yawning. He had given a fight as he had been put in the crate, being fearful of small, cramped spaces, so the sedative had been necessary. A deep rumbling started up in his chest, permeating through the box. It was said that the first person they set eyes on they had a stronger bond with, which had left some very displeased when nosy neighbors had come over and opened the box when hearing a noise because the owner had gone to the store or was at work. He looked up at his new owner, wanting to be lifted and held, to be pet by him and to be touched.
The sedative had just started wearing as bright light flooded his senses. He rubbed his eyes with his hands, the palms seeming human, contrasting the fur on the opposite side. He looked up into the light, squinting into a face he vaguely recognized from a photo. "John?" he asked softly. He wore no clothes, fur hid everything fairly well with the long hair and he was curled up in pillows and blankets, yawning. He had given a fight as he had been put in the crate, being fearful of small, cramped spaces, so the sedative had been necessary. A deep rumbling started up in his chest, permeating through the box. It was said that the first person they set eyes on they had a stronger bond with, which had left some very displeased when nosy neighbors had come over and opened the box when hearing a noise because the owner had gone to the store or was at work. He looked up at his new owner, wanting to be lifted and held, to be pet by him and to be touched.